


Judy

by charivari



Category: The Hateful Eight (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Infatuation, Murder, Unrequited Love, character perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Her smile is sunshine breaking through the bleakness of their cold surroundings. Her name is Judy, and Grouch falls fast.' Set during 'The Four Passengers'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judy

**Author's Note:**

> Because it seemed like Joe Gage was a little sweet on Judy before he killed her. And that he was a little sweet on Daisy too. Mostly because he was a fascinating character. Damn you Madsen and Tarantino!

Her smile is sunshine breaking through the bleakness of their cold surroundings. Her name is Judy, and Grouch falls fast. He's always been a romantic at heart, despite his less than savoury profession and his pessimistic name. He loves women, loves the poetry about them. For Daisy, it's her hardiness, tough as an oak and somehow beautiful in her coarseness. Judy is tender and innocent as a young sapling pushing through the snow. She's more traditionally beautiful than Daisy, despite her masculine clothes, golden haired and rosy-cheeked. She is sprightly in her movements as a young pup, teeth flashing in constant merriment as she ushers the four into the confines of the carriage.

On route Grouch tries to think only of Daisy. But he's distracted by the sound of Judy's sweet accented voice above his head. He imagines loosening her braid, running his fingers through that yellow hair. He pictures her smile, radiant as the sun rising over the snow capped mountains. He covertly scribbles a few lines in his book, ignoring the smirk that passes between his companions. His weakness for the fairer sex amuses them.

When Grouch finally deigns to look up, he meets Jody in the eye, the latter's expression now grim. 'Stick to the plan' it warns. Grouch swallows hard and nods. For Daisy, he'll do as he must, and he tries to steel his heart for the remainder of the journey. But when Judy's face beams at him through the carriage window, inviting them into the haberdashery, he's smitten anew.

There's an innocence to her smile, as though no evil exists in the world. No evil such as the likes of Grouch Douglass. Admittedly his looks have always been deceiving, with his countenance leaning more towards melancholy. 'Soft eyes', that's what Daisy told him once, 'you got soft eyes, Grouch'. Then she had cackled, dancing away like she always did, with the energy of a hellcat, daring him to come further and end up scratched by her claws.

Daisy's always excited him, with her unapologetic harshness, her blatant deadliness. Judy is so different, yet he watches her through the window of the haberdashery with the same longing, her movements graceful as a dance. He purchases five peppermint sticks from Minnie, not merely to prolong their ruse but as a means to instigate conversation when Judy returns inside, drawn to the coffee pot.

Daisy would snatch such an offering with a greedy glee. Judy is more demure, accepting it with a shy smile. Grouch knows it's a bad idea to carry on talking to her, infatuated as he is with the mere sight of her, peppermint stick in her mouth as she rubs her hands together. The idea of embracing her from behind, inhaling the scent of her hair, warming her with his own possessive heat. Instead he remains by the windowsill and asks her a question,

"So why do they call you Six-Horse Judy anyway?"

There's pride in her expression as she answers, a comely, sweet-natured pride. A common sense answer no less, that makes his question seem foolish. Grouch pokes fun at himself, Judy laughing along with him in a far less mean-spirited way Daisy would. Daisy had no time for 'damn fool questions', she could cut you down with a few words and a mean little smile yet somehow make you love her for it.

Judy indulges his foolishness, his questions. The girl has a gentle patience, though Grouch wonders how long such a patience would last should he take her hostage rather than kill her. In his experience ladies didn't take kindly to being abducted, nor being forced to witness acts of murder. The chance of her not growing to detest him is non-existent. Logically, this revelation should strengthen his resolve as the moment of bloodbath draws near.

Too fast for Grouch's liking. He would like to hear more of Auckland, like to hear more of Judy's pleasant voice.

But there's no delaying the inevitable. Grouch sucks in the sight of Judy's face, desperate as a man dying of thirst, all the vitality of her countenance. It's a shame he's no good at sketching. He might have rendered her portrait in his book. Instead he'll pen a poem, snatches of words are already forming in his head. Gold, smile. Suddenly he wants to weep.

Instead, as gun shots ring in the air, he raises his own, purposely at Judy's chest than her lovely face, cowardice closing his eyes as he pulls the trigger.

It's his punishment that when his eyes open, Judy is clinging to life, forcing him to meet her pained, pleading gaze, forcing him to endure her hand reaching for the tail of his coat, weakly tugging. But the damage is done. Even if he were to gather her in his arms, like a white knight, she would perish, in agony. It's a kindness, he tries to tell himself, to speed her spirit to Heaven. Even so, he glances away as he imparts a more fatal shot.

She's still when he looks back, serene in death, a bloodied angel. As he looks upon her, Grouch feels the flames of Hell licking him. He wipes his brow with peppermint-flavored spit.

For a siren, he sacrificed an angel. Grouch knows he'll burn one day. Due to the love in his heart, not the lack of it.


End file.
